


These Violent Delights

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, F/M, Infidelity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellatrix/Lucius PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Violent Delights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melfinatheblue](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=melfinatheblue).



Lucius drinks tea with Bellatrix in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor. With each sip, the black serpents on her teacup hiss and slither frantically around its rim as if they fear her touch. Their roiling makes Lucius vaguely nauseated and though he is loath to admit such a thing, he thinks in matters of crockery, perhaps Muggles possess some measure of superior taste.

Bella appears oblivious to his scrutiny, so Lucius watches her over the rim of his teacup. Lucius has always found Bellatrix strangely compelling. Hers is a dark beauty, the elegant arc of a serrated blade, the heavy sugar of decaying fruit. She is Narcissa’s counterpoint, the new moon to her sister’s full. Of course, Bella’s loveliness is now twisted in ways that should disgust Lucius, should terrify him. They do not. Even as a child, long before Azkaban, Bella was unpredictable, unfathomable, and Lucius has always been attracted to that which he cannot control. Unfortunately, this is one of his more destructive qualities.

Eventually Bella acknowledges his presence. She nods at Lucius once, twice, her fingernails tapping restlessly against porcelain. “I know what you want,” Bella says abruptly, her teacup clanging in its saucer when she rises. Bella walks across the room as if she is traveling through water, as if the very air is weighted against her. When finally Bella reaches Lucius, something shifts; she moves so rapidly that before Lucius realizes her intentions, Bella is straddling him. On his grandmother’s sofa surrounded by portraits of his ancestors, Bella presses Lucius back into the brocade and slithers one hand up his robes. Bella’s fingers are warm from the tea and Lucius cannot deny that this is indeed what he wants—her knees nudging his thighs wide, her thumbs pressing into his hips. Across the room, Cousin Malorna watches them disapprovingly from behind the edges of her frame and Lucius can hardly bear the sick thrill of knowing that whatever happens in this room will be witnessed.

“This is madness, Bellatrix,” Lucius gasps. “Anyone could discover us. Even now we are being watched.”

Bella smiles, a wicked slice of teeth. “That’s half the fun, my dear Lucius.”

She kisses him then, hard biting kisses that bruise his lips, leave his mouth aching and overwhelmed. Lucius can feel her unlacing his trousers, feel her hand slipping inside, her fingers drawing wet circles on the head of his cock. Somewhere upstairs someone stirs—a rustle of fabric, footsteps muffled by heavy carpets, the soft reverberation of voices—but Bella does not stop. She holds Lucius there with her mouth, with her hands, and the panic mixes with desire in his belly until Lucius is nearly frantic with want.

Bella slides off the couch and kneels before Lucius. Behind them on the wall, Great-Grand Uncle Scorpius takes a ragged breath as Bella lifts Lucius’s robes and slides underneath. Lucius feels faintly ridiculous sitting in such a fashion with Bella concealed under that great tent of fabric until he feels the wet heat of her mouth close over his cock. Bella sucks him down, achingly slow, with sweet flicks of her tongue on the slit that drive Lucius mad. Lucius fists his hands in the rich upholstery of the sofa cushions and fucks into Bella’s mouth, little snaps of his hips that he unconsciously times to the rhythmic slapping he can hear from the direction of Great-Grand Uncle Scorpius’s portrait. Bella allows this for several glorious moments before she strengthens her hold on Lucius’s hips, before she pulls away just enough that Lucius stills. 

Bella’s pace is relentlessly and frustratingly unhurried, as if she has nothing more urgent to accomplish this day than to keep Lucius on the brink of orgasm for as long as possible. Lucius wishes he could see her face, her lips stretched wide around him, wet and swollen with his cock. He imagines her breasts, sinking his teeth into that pale flesh, pinching those pink nipples until they redden between his fingers. Lucius moans softly and hooks his ankles behind Bella’s thighs. At that, Bella lets him slip from her mouth with an obscene noise and one of the children in the family grouping next to the bookshelf giggles. 

Lucius is left little time for disappointment. Bella gathers her robes into her arms and sinks down on him, and although seconds before Lucius would have called her mouth the height of pleasure, it cannot compare to the incredible tightness that engulfs him now. Bella leans back, her throat bared, her hair a wild nimbus around her face as she rides him. She whispers under her breath words that Lucius does not recognize, that he does not care to decipher, until finally the strength of her orgasm silences her. When Lucius comes, he thinks inexplicably of Narcissa with white roses in her hair, of the tendons in her wrist as she works her wand, of the tender curve of her stomach.

Bella slides off Lucius, shaking the creases from her robes as she stands. Great-Grand Uncle Scorpius leads a round of applause and she scowls at him until the room is once again quiet. Lucius can barely breathe; the nape of his neck is damp with sweat and he can feel the flush on his cheeks. Bella refreshes her cup of tea and once again appears oblivious to her surroundings, drinking with a nonchalance that belies her earlier passion. 

Lucius hears footsteps on the stairs and then Narcissa sweeps into the sitting room. Her expression is unreadable. She surveys the room—Bella calmly drinking tea, Lucius sweating down into his robes, four old crones hung next to the bookshelf whispering behind their hands—and lifts an elegant eyebrow. Lucius stares at a spot over Narcissa’s left shoulder and wills his heart to stop racing. 

Just as he feels controlled enough to speak, Bella looks up at her sister and smiles. “Lucius and I were just having a cup of tea,” Bella says. “Won’t you join us?”


End file.
